


Saviour

by DragonHeartStringCore



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29094903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonHeartStringCore/pseuds/DragonHeartStringCore
Summary: Hermione finds something she's been searching for in someone unexpected.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 16
Kudos: 144





	Saviour

**Author's Note:**

> After all this time I just couldn’t let these two go.  
> Not my best work by any means but I hope it's still passable.  
> Apologies if anything seems a little too OOC.  
> Enjoy!

It was something Hermione could never admit to anyone for surely they would think she was mad.

She missed the war. The adrenaline, the fear, the thrill of battle.

Hermione knew it was awful, sure that if the war were truly back that she would lament it as much as she did the first time, and yet, her life felt so empty now it was gone.

She had a good job at the Ministry, now a senior official in the Research and Investigations Department. It was as stimulating and varied a job as you could get. Challenging, exhilarating, and yet it didn’t satisfy her, still she yearned for it, the feeling she had never managed to get back.

Five years it had been since they had prevailed and she was happy, truly she was, but she knew nothing could match the power she felt during the war, the intensity of the emotions.

She’d almost considered becoming an Auror like Harry and Ron just so that she might be able to experience that thrill again but had decided against it. Harry and she were still as close as ever but Ron was a different story. After the war, he had assumed they would be in a relationship but Hermione had turned him down. She knew deep down that she could only be with someone who made her feel the strength of emotion she felt during the last year of the war, and she didn’t feel that for Ron, so why waste his time?

Some people might think she was crazy, that she was giving up on a good thing without even trying, but Hermione knew what she wanted, and she didn’t want Ron.

Of course, she’d had other suitors, her modesty still allowed her to see that she was beautiful, talented, smart, and a war hero to top it off, it wasn’t as though it was hard to find people who were interested. No one, however, had come close to what she wanted, what she needed, so she’d given up.

They, on the other hand, had not.

She was flattered, she really was, that so many a wizard and even the occasional witch had pursued her, but none of them had quite met the measure. It was always the worst at an event like this though, where people she wasn’t yet acquainted with felt it was socially acceptable to introduce themselves.

The summer had become a season of celebration around the anniversary of Voldemort’s demise and great balls and parties were held throughout. This evening they were at the Greengrass estate at what was so far the most spectacular event Hermione had attended that year. The house was grand, evidenced by the fact that they had a two-tiered ballroom, and was decorated very tastefully with both magic and muggle decor alike.

Hermione wore a muggle gown, the long black fabric clinging to her curves languidly yet tastefully, the neckline dipping to a deep v on her chest and a modest slit up the side of her leg. People looked, they always did, but it wasn’t for them, it was for her and how it made her feel. 

These events had become a meeting ground of sorts to heal old wounds, those from both sides of the war invited, some from the losing even hosting to restore society’s faith in them. Hermione surveyed the room from the upper level as she retrieved a drink and saw a sea of familiar faces. Her old school friends, colleagues from the Ministry, even the Minister himself was here.

Then her chest tightened suddenly. 

She only saw it for a second before it was lost again in the crowds, a head of platinum blonde.

She should have known he’d be here, his son was dating Astoria Greengrass after all, but the thought hadn’t occurred to her before. She hadn’t let it. Her heart pulsed, the faintest beat of that feeling she longed for igniting once again inside her chest.

Hermione took a large sip of her drink, trying to banish the feeling from herself.

“Ah, Hermione!” A far too familiar voice called to her, breaking the spell.

She internally groaned as she turned around, seeing Oliver Wood coming her way. He’d asked her out before and she’d politely turned him down but he never seemed to quite get the message. He seemed the type of man to think if he was nice enough then maybe you’d change your mind.

“Hello.” She waved halfheartedly, abandoning her drink and moving towards the stairs down to the dancefloor as if she’d been heading that way anyway.

“Going for a dance?” He asked, following her. 

“Nope, just looking for someone.” She lied as she picked up the pace, trying to be careful with her long dress on the steps. Her eyes scanned the room for someone to save her but all her friends seemed to be elsewhere.

She caught a glimpse of Ron however, whose face frustratingly lit up at seeing her. He too started to make his way towards her.

 _Not another one!_ She thought as she rolled her eyes. 

Hermione pushed on through the crowds as politely as she could and thought she might have lost them. She turned back for only a second to check but suddenly found herself bumping into something. 

Her hand had come to rest on someone’s chest. It felt firm beneath her fingers, so warm to the touch. Hermione glanced up and her body stiffened, for looking down at her was the man who sparked so many feelings inside her. Lucius Malfoy.

His lips looked about to reflexively turn into a snarl but then his eyes darted behind her, to the tactless men no doubt clumsily making their way towards her. He paused for just a moment and then clearly resolved himself of something, a spark coming to his gaze. She noticed it flicker for the very briefest moment to her chest.

“My apologies, Miss Granger.” He said with an abyssal smoothness, the vibrations of his voice penetrating her core. “I should have been paying more attention to where I was walking.”

Hermione was momentarily stunned, unable to understand the civility with which he spoke to her. Then she saw it, behind him was a gaggle of women whispering amongst themselves and looking in Lucius’ direction, and suddenly it clicked. Lucius was having a similar problem to herself. Even after all that had transpired and his fall from grace, the recently divorced Malfoy patriarch was still, apparently, quite a catch. 

Her mind raced. She had once feared this man. Hated him. He had caused her pain in so many ways. 

She felt it again, that spark of life. She feared what she might do to capture it. Her body seemed to know even though her mind resisted.

“Not at all, Mr. Malfoy.” Hermione replied coolly, deciding to go along with the little game it seemed they were playing. These balls were all about mending burnt bridges after all, and she, of all people, should of course be setting an example. It was an excuse she knew she didn’t need but she tried to convince herself it was.

“Perhaps…” He paused slightly, part of him seeming to want to resist what he was saying. “You could make it up to me with a dance?”

The corner of his mouth ticked up into a tight smile as he offered her his arm.

Hermione weighed up her options. She despised this man and everything that he stood for. He had caused her harm in the past, had instilled a fear in her that at times she found it hard to deny had fully dissipated. However, right now, getting away from Ronald and the other men, if they were even worthy of the word, was her highest priority and this seemed her fastest way out. It was very unlikely any of her pursuers would dare interrupt her if she was dancing with Lucius, despite all that had happened he still had a presence to him that was overwhelming, a reputation that denied questioning.

“Why not?” She conceded, resolving herself that it would be just one dance and then she might be able to slip away.

Hermione took his arm and let him lead her to the dance floor. She could feel his arm beneath her fingers, just as well-muscled as his chest. It made her feel almost afraid. It made her ache. She wished it didn’t.

Hermione would never have doubted that Lucius would be an exceptional dancer. The way he moved was precise yet smooth, it had a fluidity to it that surprised her for a man of his build. He was imposing. Tall yet still perfectly broad. She felt something stir within her.

She tried to make conversation to make this strange situation slightly less exceptional, to distract herself from her own thoughts.

“You’re wearing a muggle suit.” Hermione stated, suddenly realising the fine three-piece he had on. It was a deep grey and contrasted nicely with his near silver eyes, the waistcoat tight across his chest.

“Indeed.” He replied matter of factly.

“An attempt to convey your change with the times?” She questioned, a teasing edge to her voice that came unbidden.

“A fashion choice only, I assure you.” He drawled.

“...It suits you.” She found herself saying, almost involuntarily.

Lucius smirked.

“Does it now?” He asked, pulling her almost unnoticeably closer to him.

“Well, it seems to have had the desired effect.” She said as she gestured towards the women who were now watching the pair curiously from the edge of the dance floor.

He let out a short breath of irritation. “I thought you must have noticed my little predicament, although, it was always a possibility that you just couldn’t stay away from me.”

Blood rushed to her cheeks as quickly as her brow furrowed. She knew what he meant. They had seen rather a lot of each other lately. Always at the same meetings, on the same committees, bumping into each other amongst the shelves of Flourish and Blotts. He may have caught her looking at him a couple of times, three at most surely. 

She reminded herself that it took two to have caught someone’s eye.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She retorted, trying to hide her blush from his piercing gaze. “As if I’d choose to dance with you if it wasn’t the best option in a bad situation.”

It sounded like he almost laughed at that one.

“And surely I have noticed your little problem too.” He continued. “Although I must admit I am surprised, Miss Granger, so many suitors and yet none take your interest?”

Lucius was clearly teasing her and yet she sensed there was very almost a genuine curiosity hidden behind his words.

“They aren’t exactly what I’ve been looking for.” She said matter of factly.

“I surmised that myself.” He said dryly. “Little else was likely to drive you into the arms of someone like me.” 

“I believe it was a mutual crashing into, Mr Malfoy.” Hermione retorted, her hand slowly moving from his shoulder to the base of his neck. “Or were you just so keen to dance with a muggleborn?”

“Now now, Miss Granger, aren’t we passed the days of talking of blood purity?” He asked, almost sounding sincere, the only giveaway the devilish smile which graced his lips. His hand on her waist tightened, moving down ever so slightly to graze her hip.

She so wanted to hate him. To go on a rant about the audacity of him saying that. How dare he?! But she knew she wasn’t going to. It was there. That feeling she had been chasing mere sparks of was now striking her with full force. She hadn’t felt so alive in years.

“It was not I who ever had a problem with it.” She replied, pressing her body lightly against his as they moved, barely enough for him to notice. “I’m surprised you can stand to be this close to someone like me.”

“As am I.” He added, the mocking nature in which he had been speaking now replaced by something else.

“It seems it’s having the desired effect.” Lucius said as he effortlessly led her around the dancefloor, clearly trying to move on.

“People are probably too stunned to know what to do.” Hermione admitted.

“Indubitably.” He agreed. “What man would think of getting in the way of an ex-deatheater, and what woman one of the heroes of the war?”

“You jest.” She chastised him. “But you make a point…”

“I rarely don’t.” He drawled in his haughtiest tone.

She rolled her eyes. It should have irritated her but instead, a smile tugged at her lips. They fell silent after that, their conversation continued without words. Hermione studied his face as they danced. He was undeniably beautiful. His jaw strong, his features elegant, his powerful magic keeping the worst he had endured from showing on his face. She breathed in the heady smell of his cologne, each inhale filling her lungs with his sweet poison.

She looked up at him and found her eyes locking with his. He’d been watching her as she took in his face. He did not look away. She chose not to either. She looked at him with defiance and he returned it with one of undeniable satisfaction.

Hermione almost didn’t notice when the music came to an end, her thoughts lost in the orbs of liquid mercury that held her gaze.

Lucius broke the spell first.

“Would you like to take some air?” He asked, pointedly looking at the unruly group of men who appeared to be discussing who would be the next to ask Hermione to dance.

“What an excellent idea.” She said exasperatedly.

Hermione could feel eyes on them as they made their way through the room. She saw Minister Kingsley about to come and talk to her but once his eyes settled on the imperious man who stalked behind her through the crowd he stopped, his smile dropping ever so slightly. Why did she like the way that made her feel?

They made their way out to the terrace, decorated beautifully with summer flowers. Reality set in as the fresh air hit her skin. What was she doing? This was madness. This man had done terrible things. He hated her. She hated everything he stood for, didn’t she?

She shivered involuntarily.

“You’re cold?” He asked.

“No.” Was all she could reply halfheartedly, for it wasn’t the night air which caused it.

The slight raising of his brows let her know that he understood.

“We should take a stroll.” She suggested, almost surprising herself. The last thing she should want to do was be alone beneath the night sky with Lucius but she felt like she needed momentum, like if she stood still too long she may combust.

He did not answer but slowly made his way off the terrace and down into the rose garden below. She followed, coming to settle at his side.

After some time he stopped next to a small fountain and stared into the water at something that wasn’t there.

“Do you ever miss it?” She asked suddenly.

He raised a questioning eyebrow.  
  
“The war...” She replied hesitantly.

Lucius’ brow furrowed, his tone turning almost venomous. “There is no other time in my life I miss less.”

Hermione looked away, almost ashamed.  
  
“Do you?” He asked, trying to hide his incredulity. 

“Of course not.” She said firmly, struggling to meet his eyes. “But I..,”

“What?” He asked sternly. “What could you miss about that awful time? After all that you endured? After all my actions did to you.”

He was intimidating when he spoke like that, an edge of ferocity seeping through that he had learnt to keep well hidden, a hatred for himself she was surprised he would let her see a glimmer of.

“I’ve never felt so alive.” Hermione admitted, her fire coming to meet his ice. “The only time I’ve ever felt close to it since is when..” She trailed off, stopping herself from getting carried away.

“Is when?” He questioned, his voice deep and dulcet, a near unquenchable curiosity laced within it.

She looked away from him again. Ashamed. Confused. Aching for him. 

Two fingers were suddenly hooked under her chin and pulling her back to face him, firm but not forceful.

“I miss that too.” He said, the cool of his eyes alight. “I loathe it, but I miss it too. The thrill of battle, the fight for your life, the joy of relief when you’ve won. I’ve chased it, that feeling, I’m scared what I would do to find it again. So tell me, Hermione, when do you get close...” He pulled her towards him and she came without protest. “...to feeling it again?”

Her heart raced, her core burned. How dare this man, this evil, loathsome, beautiful, powerful man do this to her. How dare he be the only one to ever make her feel this way.

She was about to reply but was cut off as suddenly they heard voices approaching, the unmistakable sound of Ron’s thuggish tones among them.

Hermione looked at Lucius and knew she wouldn’t have to ask. He quickly pulled her through the gate of a nearby walled garden and out of view, hiding her from them, his hand on her waist.

Lucius was so close to her now, a hand resting on the wall beside her head. His long hair draped around his face, his lips so close to hers. She breathed deeply, her heart thundering within her. They looked so soft, so dark and inviting. She could hardly bear having them so far from her.

He glanced down realising the position they were now in. He did not move away.

“When?” He asked, his eyes glancing down her body.

She looked away from him, trying to find the words to tell him how she felt. How being around him truly made her feel. Fear. Hatred. Euphoria. Alive. He stirred a fire within her. He made her feel what she had thought she had lost.

“Lucius.” She said, for the first time using his name aloud.

“Yes?” He replied, his voice deep, quiet, almost tentative, his eyes searching her face for something she wondered if he could see.

She tilted her head up towards him, her lips parting slightly as she locked eyes with him. It was all he needed.

Slowly yet with an undeniable purpose, he lowered his head to hers, his hand moving from her waist to the side of her face, his fingers ever so lightly against her neck.

Hermione grazed her lips against his, any doubt she may have had evaporating as his moved against her own.

The softness of their kiss did not last long. There was a desperation between them. A need. Hermione felt as if she were aflame. Years of resentment, of hatred, of lust, building to this moment.

She moaned. He exhaled sharply. His body pressed hard against her own, his leg nudging its way between hers. She opened to him. It was cathartic. She wanted to give herself to him. She wanted him to take her. 

Her back scraped against the wall and she hissed against him, revelling in it. She wanted it to be like this, knew it would be. His hand moved to her hip, his grip so sweetly hard.

“Please.” She whispered breathlessly, so wanting him to touch her.

“Patience.” He chastised, his lip curled up in satisfaction, Lucifer dancing in his eyes. 

Tortuously slowly he brought his hand to her breast, pinching the nipple, caressing it, working her into a frenzy. He moved to her leg, softly stroking up the exposed skin of her thigh, his nails lightly grazing her. 

Lucius’ hand dipped below the waistband of her lace underwear and he moaned as his fingers came to meet her slick cunt, his forehead coming to rest against her own. Her want for him was evident. Her need for him. She could already feel herself dripping down her inner thigh and he’d barely even touched her.

Two fingers easily slid inside and she gasped. Lucius curled them within her, his thumb coming to circle her clit. He knew what he was doing, plying her with a perfect languid punishment of her pussy. Hermione’s back arched as he touched her, her eyes locking with his. She wanted him to see the pleasure he was giving to her.

Hermione knew what she wanted from him, what she had wanted from him for longer than she’d dare to admit. She craved more from him and her hands came to undo his belt, eliciting a hiss from him as she grazed his cock, straining against his suit. She wanted to see him, to pull the shirt from his shoulders, to feel his skin against her own, but now was not the time. Now was a necessity that didn’t have the luxury of time. 

He reluctantly withdrew his hand from her and freed his hard length from its confines. He lifted her slightly, her leg coming to wrap around his hips as he held her against the wall.

He looked at her for confirmation and she nodded, biting her lip in anticipation.

“Fuck.” Lucius cursed as he entered her. “So perfect.”

Lucius stretched her, her body opening for him, desperate for him. She almost let out a sob as he started moving within her, each stroke hitting that perfect place inside her. He started slowly as she adjusted to his size but soon he became more forceful, knowing she wanted it, knowing she could take it.

As he fucked her their hate for each other seemed to burn away, it was replaced by lust and want and need, with a euphoria both had sought for too long. They conquered each other as they had always wanted to. It was a battle. It was an apology. It was a forgiveness. It healed a wound they had both been reluctant to confront.

She could feel her orgasm approaching quickly as he moved within her, her body tightening around his rhythmic strokes, building to the fall. She knew it would come fast this time, growing since the moment she saw him.

“Are you going to come for me, my witch?” He asked intuitively, his lips at her neck.

“Lucius.” Was all she could manage through ragged breaths. She felt him grin against her.

He maintained his pace, rolling his hips, catching her clit with each stroke. She opened her legs wider, pulling him impossibly deeper as her pussy gripped him with every thrust.

Her orgasm hit her hard, every part of her coming apart around Lucius, wave after wave of it crashing over her, pulsing around him. His lips met hers with a growl as he joined her, filling her with himself, hot and strong.

They panted against each other, a light sheen of sweat glistening on their bodies. Hermione’s legs felt weak, the only thing keeping her standing was Lucius’ still hard cock inside her and his hand at her hip.

She let out a near giddy laugh and he joined her with a smile.

“Fuck.” She breathed out.

“Indeed.” He agreed as he reluctantly withdrew from her. She felt bereft at the loss of him.

“That was…” She started.

“Yes.”

He kissed her hungrily, slowly, wanting more of what she had given him, what they were capable of making the other feel. 

Reality seeped in between them again. They started to hear voices once more as the wider world came back into focus, no doubt people congregating in anticipation of the evening's fireworks.

The thought of suggesting they emerge from the garden separately briefly crossed Hermione’s mind but it was gone as fast as it came. Part of her wanted people to see them together, the other wondering if Lucius would feel the same way. She thought of how her friends would react seeing her at his side but she would deal with that when it came to it. For now, for tonight, she wasn’t going to let this feeling go.

“Would you like to go and find somewhere to go and watch the display, Miss Granger?” Lucius asked with a false formality, as if he hadn’t been fucking her just minutes ago.

“Why yes, Mister Malfoy.” She agreed with a smirk as she straightened out her dress, relieved. 

He offered her his arm and they strolled out of the walled garden together back towards the terrace of the house. People looked at them, whispered amongst themselves, but none dare say a thing to them. Hermione shouldn’t have but she revelled in the look of untouchable pride that shone through Lucius eyes, in the frowns of confusion she could see in that of her failed suitors, those who had tried and those who had been waiting to. 

“So.” Lucius said haughtily as they approached the crowd, a smile of satisfaction gracing his lips. “Have you perhaps found what you were looking for this evening?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She teased, struggling to sound serious. “I feel that perhaps I’m not quite sure yet.”

“Is that so?” He played along.

“I feel that perhaps I may have to experience a little more to be certain.”

He lowered his lips to her ear. “I’m sure that can be arranged.” He said deeply.

A shiver ran through her, this time in anticipation, not fear.

“I look forward to it, Lucius.”

“As do I, Hermione.”


End file.
